


New Life

by caricari



Series: Life [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20926025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caricari/pseuds/caricari
Summary: An angel and a demon go to visit with some old friends and meet a brand new one. Told from Adam's pov. Quite a lot of fluff, Crowley holding a baby, and some soft observations about the almost-antichrist's growing extended family.





	New Life

Time had moved in strange ways, all through Adam's life. He had always been different, separate, he had known that from the beginning. It had never really been a bad thing. Apart from the few weeks around his eleventh birthday, the almost-antichrist had never felt apart from the love of his friends and family. It helped that his friends and family were who they were - that he was surrounded by good people. And, of course, it helped that things just sort of worked out around Adam, that suspicion slid off him like water off of something and people accepted whatever he said as true. 

People having inherent faith in him was almost always a good thing, if used in love, and love was really all Adam wanted to use his powers for. Okay, there had been a bit of mischief, occasionally, but the almost-antichrist considered himself well and truly a failure in the expectations of Heaven and Hell. He had never wanted to pass retribution on others. He had never wanted to sit on the throne of Earth, or Hell. There were a few moments when he had wanted to rip the world apart for not being a little fairer but, once the horrific confusion of puberty had ended, even that had sort of dwindled away. He was quite a well adjusted person, really, Adam thought, as he sat on his couch in his parents’ living room, surrounded by his friends and family. It was not normal how well adjusted he was - perhaps that was how he was really different to the rest of humanity. 

His mother and father were fussing over their guests. They were getting on now, Adam thought, watching them. Twenty eight years on from the failed ending of the world, they were both well into old age. Mr Young was planning for his retirement, next month. A battered classic MG sat in the garage, under tarps and alongside the tools needed to piece it back together, once he had spare time. Mrs Young, already retired from her job at the local council office, split her time between the many things she enjoyed; bridge on Wednesdays and book club on Fridays, and pottering around in the garden for most mornings of the spring and summer. She had become a familiar face at the nearest market town, where she liked to show off her prize vegetables. They were both happy. Content. They had even stopped asking their son when he was going to find a nice girl and settle down. It was probably that affect he had on people, Adam thought. The one that made them just accept what he had to say. 

The only two people who Adam’s powers did not work on were sitting, primly and sprawled, amongst the eight humans packed into the small living room. The angel and the demon had been a feature of Adam’s life, on and off, for the last twenty eight years, now. When they had first met, he had been an eleven year old boy. Now a thirty eight year old man, Adam found he appreciated them more and more. There were things the others could never understand, no matter how much they tried, or loved him - things Crowley and Aziraphale could. The angel and the demon knew the feeling of separation from the rest of human society. They knew the responsibility that came with celestial power. And they knew what it was, to be resident in a body that refused to age. 

Adam had begun suspecting, a few years ago, that his lifespan might eclipse that of a normal human. Though he had grown alongside his friends normally enough, until adulthood, his physical appearance seemed to have arrested somewhere in his mid twenties. There was a definitely youthful look about him, for thirty eight. His skin was too smooth. He had never found any grey hairs or seen his midriff thicken as his metabolism dropped away. Brian complained about pain in his knees, now, when he went on a long run, but Adam could run for miles if he wanted to. He could run all day and all night. There was no difference now to what he had been, ten years ago. He was still a young man and he suspected he was going to be a young man for a very long time. 

Aziraphale had spoken about it with him, once - ten years ago, shortly after Christmas, when he and Crowley had popped by to say hello. He had told Adam that if he ever wanted to talk about it he was welcome to call or stop in at the bookshop. It wasn’t easy, the angel told him, with soft sad eyes. It could be a difficult thing to be the one left behind. Adam had believed him, of course, but he hadn’t quite grasped the reality of the statement until the first of his friends had died, a year later - a young man he had worked alongside at the hospital. It was a congenital heart condition, the coroner had said. Just went to sleep one night and never woke up. Genetic. Couldn’t have been prevented. 

It could have, of course, (though Adam wasn’t sure if that was really his purview, even if he had thought to look - which, of course, he hadn’t. How much time did anyone spend considering their colleagues’ mortality, on a daily basis?) So, the young man had died and there had been a strange little hole in the almost-antichrist’s life where a friend used to be. And Adam had realised, slowly, that it was just going to keep happening. First, it would probably be his parents and then the rest would follow. His older colleagues, and then his older friends. And then, the Them.

Wensley, Brian and Pepper would last longer than the rest. It was something that happened to humans who spent a lot of time in the company of the celestial. Some of the magic rubbed off. It wasn’t intentional. Adam knew he couldn’t have helped it even if he had wanted to. It was just something that happened when he loved. Things lasted a bit longer, lived a bit brighter. And Wensley, Brian and Pepper were loved more than anything else in his world. They would always have half an angel watching over them. (And, of course, the two fully blown celestial beings, who swanned in and out of their lives from time to time; sitting primly and sprawled in the living room at Christmas, or New Years, or occasionally for a barbecue over the summer). Adam, Aziraphale and Crowley would keep the three humans going longer than most but eventually, one day, they would die too. And then Adam would be alone. 

Alone was a thought that didn’t scare him as much as it used to, when he had first properly considered it, all those years ago. Many things had changed from his late twenties to his late thirties. He was closer with his parents, now. He was closer with the angel and the demon. He had got back in touch with Wensley, who has drifted apart from the others during university. Pepper had moved back from London, where she had been practicing law. She had fallen back in with him and Brian again and, before his eyes, Adam’s two friends had fallen in love, and been married and now they had a son. A tiny child, who Pepper had given birth to just twenty days ago. He was here, now, in Adam’s arms, gurgling gently as everyone chatted around them. 

Adam held onto his godson and stroked the tiny creased palm, marvelling a little at the miracle that was life. 

Ten years ago, the thought of Pepper marrying Brian and having a son would have caused a sharp pain through the almost-antichrist’s stomach. There had always been something between him and his favourite friend. They had always been that little bit closer than the others. Pepper had always been his backup, his most forceful adversary, his most outspoken critic and supporter. She had been the other half of him for a very, very long time. Then they had both left home, and grown, and travelled in separate circles for a while. They had fallen in and out of orbit, during term times and holidays, meeting up around internships and jobs. They had been distant, for a while, but never really lost touch. Then, ten years ago, there had been a brief period where Pepper had returned home, to care for her mother during an illness, and Adam had considered making the connection between them something a bit more official. He had been staying just up the road in Oxford, at the time, and the commute had been workable. They had been spending a lot of time in one another’s company, and he had been full of hope, and thoughts of the future, and very much in love - but something had held him back. 

With every year that passed, however, he could see more clearly that Pepper’s life would be different to his own. For her, things would move quicker. Her end would come sooner, (that was, if an end would come for Adam at all). She was bound by mortality and because of that - and because of who she was - she could not afford to wait around. For him, Adam knew, she would have waited longer than most, but it was not fair to ask it. It was not fair to ask someone to spend their whole life waiting, watching him stay the same, feeling the distance grow between them. So, he had let her go. He had stayed in Oxford and she had stayed in Tadfield, after her mother had died, and the pair had agreed to stay friends. Not long after that, she had fallen in with Brian. It had hurt, at first, but time had salved the wound. Brian was good for Pepper. He was stable, strong, and even-tempered; the perfect foil to Peppers tempestuous nature. After dating for a little over a year, they were engaged. Now, they were parents. 

Through it all, Adam had made sure to give the pair space. Space to grow, but also support during the hard times. He had visited them every time he had returned to Tadfield, to see his parents. He had helped them paint the house they had bought, just up the road from the woods they had all played in, as children. He had reconnected them to Wensley when the latter had returned to live with his parents after a messy divorce and, for the last few splendid years, they had all been back together again. And now baby made five. 

Adam stroked the palm of his godson’s hand, feeling immensely proud and immensely grateful. All the power of gods and men was eclipsed by the simple joy of holding new life in your hands. He had once held the fates of world, he thought, looking down upon the baby boy whose whole short, brilliant life lay ahead of him. This was a far more important task. 

He readjusted, letting the child’s head turn onto the fleshier part of his forearm, letting him wriggle and stretch. There was nothing in this child’s world but love, thought Adam, smiling. Long may it remain so. Long may they bathe this child in love. 

Giving a small sigh, the boy who might have ended it all - now the man who held a tiny piece of the future in his hands - looked up and around the room. His mother and father had tottered off to the office with Brian, to investigate something to do with the internet router. (Brian, an IT manager at a local bank, probably knew little and less about the mysteries of BT, but he was always willing to lend a hand and some time. It was one of the things that made him so wonderful). Wensley was deep in conversation with Crowley about something to do with European tax law and his guest for the evening, a young man called Toby, was undergoing his first ritual hazing by Pepper. 

Toby was a new addition, introduced to them only earlier that evening. Adam watched the young man carefully as he fielded Pepper’s questions, looking a little overwhelmed but mostly good natured. The last few people who had wandered through Wensley’s life had not been up to Adam’s exacting standards, though the almost-Antichrist had done his best to welcome every one. Toby seemed different. A little happier in himself, perhaps. A little more likely to laugh than to take offence when Pepper threw some little jibe about city boys. A little more likely to ask one of the others a question rather than talk about himself. He was sweet, if young, and he looked at Wensley as if he was the sun - which made him okay in Adam’s books. 

Across the room, Pepper sat up a little straighter and gesticulated wildly, causing Toby to smile nervously. Adam grinned to himself. It was a good thing Aziraphale had chosen to sit beside the pair. It would defuse Pepper for the poor bloke. The Angel was good at that. 

Adam’s eyes turned to Aziraphale, for a while. 

Though both Aziraphale and Crowley had been present in Adam’s life, over the last quarter century, it was the demon the almost-antichrist had really bonded with. Crowley was a great deal rougher around the edges - he often said the wrong thing, or was a little rude, or a lot abrasive - but there was something open and honest about him which appealed to Adam. They had got to know one another incredibly well. It helped, of course, that they came from the same stock. Crowley had been a contemporary of Adam’s father (for want of a better word for Lucifer). 

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had always been a little distant. Warmer on the surface, perhaps, but hesitant to get close. Apart from that one time that he had taken Adam aside and told him he was welcome to come by and talk about the respective mortality of a half angel and a human, they had never really shared any really meaningful conversations. They chatted often enough on the phone but always about little things. Adam rather thought that it was the angel’s own worries about the respective mortality of a half angel and a full angel which caused the distance. 

While Crowley was clearly willing to lose things, (as much was evident from the passionate way he threw himself around the world), Aziraphale was far more cautious. For as long as Adam had known them, the demon had committed to life, while the angel had held back. Even tonight, though Adam had seen him throwing longing looks at Pepper’s son all evening, not once had the angel asked to hold the baby. He probably didn’t like the feeling that it was all going to be snatched away again. He was terrified of loss. It was probably the reason that the angel and the demon were seated and standing on opposite sides of the room, rather than sharing the two seater sofa which had been empty when both of them had arrived, earlier. Aziraphale was the careful custodian of the distance between them. 

Despite his powers and insight into one of the most tumultuous periods of their lives, Adam had never quite figured out the dynamic between the pair of celestial beings. Some days, he saw the closeness. Others, only the distance. He wasn't sure if their relationship was romantic or platonic, or if beings like them even held such distinctions. The only thing he did know was that they loved one another unequivocally.

As Adam watched Aziraphale laughing at one of Toby’s jokes, a vague idea occurred to the almost-antichrist. Shifting his hands to cradle his godson’s head more carefully, he stood carefully from his chair and crossed the room towards the angel, coming to stand at his side. 

Aziraphale looked up and beamed as he arrived. 

“Hello there,” 

“Hello,” Adam shot his widest and most innocent smile - a smile which had exculpated him from countless situations over the years. “I feel I’ve monopolised this little guy all evening,” he said cheerily, peeling the baby from his chest. “Fancy a hold?”

The angel’s eyes fell to the child, a series of expressions flitting across it. First fear, then excitement, then apprehension mixed with warmth. Almost instinctively, Adam saw his eyes dart over to the demon, as if seeking reassurance. 

“He’s quite asleep,” Adam told him. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” the angel looked back up, drawing on a nervous smile. “I’m not very good with babies. They always cry. If you want a safe pair of hands, you’re better off with Crowley.”

“Nah. I wouldn't worry about it. He got all his crying out earlier. Now's a great time to have a go,” Adam adjusted the baby for optimal handing over. “Here.”

“Pepper may not want…” the angel started, but trailed off as Pepper looked over and gave him a smile, too. 

“No, it’s good for him to get used to different people. Go ahead,” she nodded towards the child in Adam’s arms. “Little freeloader needs to start earning his keep.”

Adam looked over at his oldest friend and their eyes met. For the briefest of moments, a spark of that old kind of love lit the almost-antichrist’s belly, but it was only a moment. And it faded quickly into the new kind of love they had been cultivating between them - that familial warmth, which he knew, deep down, was the right sort of love for them. He gave Pepper a smile, the sort that they would have shared when they were children, in cahoots over something or another, and his friend understood. Pulling herself up from her seat, she took her son from Adam’s arms with minimal fuss, wiped a little dribble from a chin, checked him quickly over and, without waiting for Aziraphale to protest, lowered the baby into the angels arms. 

Aziraphale took him instinctively, even as the fear in his eyes doubled. 

“Oh. Right,” he shot another glance over at Crowley. 

Following his gaze, this time, Adam noticed the demon watching back. It was one of those moments where the almost-antichrist could only see closeness between the pair, rather than distance. There was something acutely protective in the demon’s expression, even if his eyes were shielded by a new pair of designer sunglasses. It was almost as if he could sense the angel's discomfort. 'Do you need me?' was written in his every line.

“Is this okay?” The angel was asking Pepper. 

“Sure, he’s fine.” 

Adam looked down again. 

Aziraphale was holding onto the child with the bare minimum amount of tension necessary to keep him from sliding off his lap and onto the floor. The angel looked as though he was terrified of breaking him. The baby looked slightly uncomfortable, but not enough that Pepper reached out to adjust him. Glancing briefly up at Adam, to imply that keeping an eye on her offspring was his responsibility, she turned her attention back to Toby and engaged him in a conversation about whether or not he had made the festival circuit last year - the first year she had missed in over a decade, having been entirely too pregnant to sleep in a tent. 

As the pair of them embarked on a spirited conversation about wellington boots, Adam watched Aziraphale watch the baby.

“They’re so tiny,” the angel murmured, reverently. “I always forget how small humans are when they’re new.”

Adam’s tiny godson wriggled around a little, tiny fist punching the air as he rolled onto one shoulder, clearly off-put by this new, less adept handler. Aziraphale would do better to cradle him into his chest, the almost-antichrist thought, but decided to leave the angel to it for now. Didn’t do to dash a person’s confidence on the first try. The baby was safe, and he was there to step in if needed. 

“It’s easy to forget how quickly they grow,” he agreed, moving to sit down on the arm of the angel’s chair. “The preemies are even tinier.” 

“How is the hospital?” Aziraphale asked, eyes not lifting from the tiny human in his lap. “I forget you’re still there. Are you in A&E?”

“Geriatrics, as of last year.” Adam smiled at his godson as the boy blew a slight bubble. “I decided that a change of pace was in order. It’s going really well. More patient continuity where I am, now, and I like the human contact.”

“Contact is a strange thing,” the angel mused, as the baby stretched and rocked itself in his arms. “Am I doing this right?”

“You’re doing fine.” 

“I’m not sure if he’s happy.”

“Oh, he’s a baby, angel," the demon's voice, overhead, made both of them jump. "If he’s fed and dry, he’s happy.”

The antichrist and angel looked up. Neither had heard Crowley approach but, suddenly, there he was, looming on front of the armchair. His stance was casual enough but Adam could not help but think that he had come in response to Aziraphale’s wordless call. The demon didn’t intimate anything of the sort out loud, however. He just frowned slightly, hip cocked and head tilted, and looked appraisingly down at the child.

“He’s a long one, isn’t he?” 

“Nine and a half bloody pounds when he came out,” Pepper informed, from a few feet away. “And he has Brian’s head.”

“Poor sod,” the demon quipped. 

Adam glanced between him and Aziraphale, noticing the way the angel was looking pleadingly up at his friend. The almost-antichrist half expected Crowley to reach down and rescue the angel, take the baby himself, but the demon surprised him. Crouching down on front of Aziraphale, he reached out and placed a hand over the child’s belly instead. 

“They like to feel secure,” he mumbled, as the baby stopped fussing with the gentle pressure. “Just... hold him a little tighter.” 

Adam saw the angel’s hand curl around the edge of the child’s shoulder, clearly emboldened by the demon’s presence. As the baby did not protest, Aziraphale adjusted the other arm, too, cradling in the legs, tilting him against his belly so that he lay in a soft curve. After a few little grumbles, the baby relaxed. 

“See?” The demon looked up towards his friend’s gaze, sunglasses catching the lamplight. “Sometimes, all we need is a bit of touch.” Aziraphale smiled, looking a little pleased with himself. Crowley looked back down at the baby. Adam didn’t fail to notice that the demon left his hand resting on the angel’s knee. 

Beside them, Pepper had finished off her conversation about Glastonbury and Wensley had moved over to join her and Toby, on the sofa. The new couple took a few moments to compliment her on the baby, and how well she was looking, and how impressed they both were. Then - inevitably - the younger man brought up the subject that Adam had known he eventually would. 

“So, how do you all know one another, then?” Toby asked, looking around at the three old friends, the angel, and the demon. “You can’t all have been school at school together.” 

He made a valid point, Adam supposed, as they all looked around at one another and just about managed to contain their reactions. To an outsider, they looked a bit of a motley crew. Adam appeared around twenty five and Pepper and Brian around forty. A little luckier with genetics, or perhaps just a little better at personal care, Wensley looked in his mid thirties, while Aziraphale and Crowley had looked forty-five for the past six thousand years. It was just a good thing that Anathema and Newt hadn’t been able to make it tonight, Adam thought. It would have made things even more confusing to have a pair of fifty five year olds kicking about. 

“Well, I was a few years below Brian, Pepper and Wensley, at school,” Adam spoke up, knowing it was his place to get the ball rolling, “and these two used to look after us, when we were kids.” 

It was a well practiced line. It hung in the air, not quite believable, until Pepper picked it up and gave it legs. 

“Oh, really,” she rolled her eyes. “As if they looked after us. We looked after them, most of the time. Think of the scrapes we got them out of. They were both entirely useless. The world might have ended if we'd not been there to cover their backsides.” 

“Bollocks,” Crowley grumbled. “We had everything under control.” 

“I think it’s safe to say that Adam looked after the lot of us,” Aziraphale corrected, diplomatically.

“I think it’s safe to say we all got into a lot of trouble, together,” Adam finished, with a grin.

All present laughed and any tension in the room was broken. Happy that they had all met one another through the vagaries of human interaction (and probably in no small part due to the aura of trust that Adam cast around himself) Toby moved the conversation on to Pepper and Brian and the story of how they had got together and Pepper’s eyes light up a bit as she told the story - about how they had been friends when they were younger, then reconnected as adults, and fallen in love sort of unexpectedly. She hadn’t seen it coming, she admitted. It had caught her by surprise. The best things always did. 

Toby agreed, throwing one of those glowing looks at Wensley. Then, he looked over towards the demon and the angel, both of whom had drifted off from the conversation and were watching the baby wrap its tiny fist around one of Crowley’s long fingers. 

“And what about you two?”

They both looked up, eyebrows raised. 

Toby faltered slightly. “How did you two, uh… meet?” 

“Oh,” the demon recovered himself first, perhaps more comfortable with the topic, perhaps only to save Aziraphale from having to speak - Adam couldn’t tell. When Crowley wanted to play something close to his chest, he did so very effectively. “We’ve been together since before time, haven’t we, angel?” He threw the question up without meeting the angel’s eyes. (A calculated move, in Adam’s opinion, because he suspected Aziraphale would not have been able to handle the statement otherwise. As it was, he still flustered and blushed quite impressively). 

“Yes. Forever really,” he stammered.

“Met through work,” Crowley continued, in an offhand tone which completely belied the fact that none present had heard him talk about this before. (None of them had ever been bold enough to ask. Wensley and Pepper were actually so surprised to hear him talking about it, now, that their mouths were hanging slightly open. Adam made a mental note to deflect attention from them if Toby looked over). “We were based near to each other,’ the demon continued, “and we just sort of bumped into one another one evening and got talking. Then it started pissing it down and he sheltered me from the rain and we kept talking. And yeah… he hasn't managed to get rid of me since.” 

“Proper little meet-cute,” Toby grinned. 

“It was, actually,” the demon agreed - still lightly, still not looking at the angel. He reached down to wrap his fingers around one of the baby’s tiny feet. 

“And what do you both do for work?” 

“Aziraphale runs a bookshop in soho,” Crowley gave the baby’s foot a gentle squeeze. “And I ferry souls to the underworld.” There was a long five seconds, during which Toby looked very uncomfortable, then the demon raised his eyes and looked over at Wensley’s new friend, giving him a wry grin. “I work at a hospital, like Adam.” The younger man relaxed slightly. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Adam trained under me, actually. A few years back, now.” 

“That must have been nice.” 

“Ooh, You’d have to ask Adam about that.” The demon turned his head to look up at the almost-antichrist. 

Adam pulled the requisite face. 

Everyone laughed again and the mood relaxed. Across the room, on the sofa, Toby embarked on the story of how he and Wensley had met, through a mutual acquaintance in the world of accountancy and, (after throwing a few curious glances at Crowley), Pepper and Wensley turned to watch him. 

Adam let his eyes fix on the young man, too, though he was mainly doing so to avoid looking at the angel and the demon. 

It wasn’t often that he felt bowled over by another supernatural entity’s emotions, anymore. After meeting the first few, the almost-antichrist had realised that they were all a little empathic by nature and, in order to have any privacy, he was going to have to figure out how to control how he broadcast his own emotions, as well as filtering everyone else's out. (It was just polite, he had learned. A bit like how Crowley and Aziraphale always drove up to Oxford to see him, rather than just manifesting in his living room). Over the next twenty eight years, Adam had perfected the process. Now, masking and screening emotion was as easy as holding a conversation in crowded restaurant. Straight forward, if you concentrated a little bit. 

Of course, what the demon and angel were doing right now was not really akin to the noise of a crowded restaurant. It was more like someone screaming in your ear. There was an absolutely enormous amount of feeling going on. 

Chancing a half glance down, Adam saw Crowley looking up at the angel with a slightly sheepish expression. He saw Aziraphale looking down with a completely lost one, all hopeful, and fearful, and longing. The air was singing with them - and not the flashes of love that Adam had glimpsed, before, but an enveloping sense of mutual belonging. Adam could feel it pouring in through his senses, filling him up, threatening to drown him. It was so obtrusively intimate that the almost-antichrist felt the need to put physical distance between them all. 

Standing from the arm of the overstuffed chair, he made a show of stretching, and looking down at Pepper. 

“Hey, didn’t you say the little one would need fed at half past?” 

In the armchair, behind him, the two supernatural entities jerked themselves back to reality. The shutters slammed down on Aziraphale’s projected emotions. Crowley’s hung in the air a while, afterwards. He had never been quite as good at masking.

Across the way, Pepper sighed and looked over at her son, who was fussing a little in Aziraphale’s arms - probably more upset by the momentary emotional disturbance in fabric of the universe than hunger.

“Oh, probably…” 

“I can warm one up, if you want?” The almost-antichrist offered. “Bottles in the fridge?”

“Oh, if you could, that would be amazing,” Pepper looked grateful. “And change him as well?”

“Sure. Done.” 

Adam looked down at the baby, in Aziraphale’s arms. 

“You want to bring him through?” He asked the angel, kindly. 

Aziraphale just blinked at him, clearly still a little shellshocked by the events of the last few minutes. “Oh… um…”

“I’ll bring him,” Crowley grumbled, in way of cover, reaching out to lift the baby from the angel’s arms. "Only fair I get a turn."

There was no awkwardness in the way the demon cradled the tiny human form. This was well within the demon’s comfort zone. Adam knew. He had, indeed, trained under the demon at the hospital. (It has not been a lie for Toby's benefit. Crowley had learned great many trades, over the years, and this was one he had been more than happy to pass along when Adam had expressed an interest. He had worked at the hospital throughout the almost-antichrist’s training, always there, always willing to lend a hand). 

The demon was a capable physician, across the board, but he was best with children. He liked them and they liked him. He made them laugh. He made them feel safe. Adam had never called Crowley out on it but there was always a noticeable drop in mortality when the demon worked the on-call in Paediatric A&E. He would probably have made up some excuse about messing with middle management - about leaving HR in paroxysms of confusion when they couldn’t replicate his stats - but Adam suspected the truth was something a lot more personal. Crowley just didn't like the idea of them suffering. Adam had found him lurking in the NICU more than once, over the years; late at night when nobody was around, a newborn draped over his shoulder or against his chest, skin on skin, just to calm a tiny heartbeat. 

Sometimes, all someone needed was a bit of touch. 

“Thanks, boys,” Pepper smiled up at them. She seemed perfectly comfortable handing her child over to the Serpent of Eden. She didn’t even give Adam a look, to imply it was his responsibility. “Make sure you note down how much he’s taking,” she told the almost-antichrist, instead. “We’re trying to make weight.”

Adam threw her a thumbs up.

Crowley rested his nose against the top of the baby’s fluffy head while everyone was looking the other way. 

The two of them made their way through to the kitchen, along the dimly lit corridor, past a half open door behind which Brian was trying to explain to Mr and Mrs Young which wires plugged into what part of their computer - and that wireless routers really didn’t need wires at all. Adam smiled as he led the way into the dark kitchen, flicking the switch with his mind but moving his hand as well, out of habit. 

He’d started accompanying magic with physical movement earlier this year, finding it did well to remind him of the separation between the Earth and where his power came from - and how he bridged the two realms. It was something he would need to acknowledge more and more, as the years went on.

“You can pop him on the table,” he told the demon, who had sauntered vaguely through after him, baby tucked neatly against his shoulder. “The nappies and stuff are in the bag by the door."

“If you think I’m changing him by hand you’re having a laugh,” Crowley snorted, as he clicked his fingers. “Had enough of human waste products at that rat-infested cesspit you call a hospital, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you miss us, really.” Adam pottered around, picking out the bits and pieces he needed from the bag Pepper had left on the counter. Popping a bottle from the fridge into a bowl of hot water, he leant back against the counter and watched as the demon leant back against the kitchen table, patting the baby absently. “And we've missed you. I think Pranav has cried every day since you left.” 

“Ah, Pranav…” the demon hissed. 

Crowley had found himself greatly beloved to a great number of the staff at the hospital. It had been the hair, Adam gathered, from talk in the break room. And the walk. And the way the demon lounged about the place, looking long and unapproachable in his scrubs. As Crowley poured most of his magic into making people not notice his eyes, making the hospital not notice that he wasn’t on the payroll, and occasionally interfering with life and death, he had very little energy left to deflect the attentions of his admirers. In the end, he admitted to Adam, he had just found it easier to lean into the role - much to the delight of the staff who enjoyed a good flirt, to pass the time. Pranav had been the last of Crowley’s acolytes before the demon had left the hospital. He had cornered the demon and kissed him soundly, as he exited the building on his last day, much to the delight of everyone watching. 

“You may tell him I still cry myself to sleep at night over him,” Crowley offered, magnanimously. 

“I already do.” Adam grinned.

The demon eyed him.

“Glad to see nobody’s keeping you in your place, now i’m gone.” 

“Nobody senior enough to call me a prat, now,” Adam shrugged, reaching behind him to check on the milk. “I’m the big boss. It’s been five years since you left, you know. Fifteen, since we both started there.”

“Fifteen years?” The demon’s eyebrows shot up and Adam was surprised, for a moment, to see the genuine shock there. Crowley lifted a hand from the baby’s back to pick his sunglasses off and lay them on the table behind him. Then he ran his hand wearily over his face. “Has it really…?”

Adam nodded. 

The time had begun to slip a little for him as well, over the last few. Seasons kept tripping into one another, Christmases had started coming in rapid succession. Everything seemed to slow down, each day taking longer, yet time was rushing away from him in big gasps. It was almost as if the more effort he took to savour every moment, the more it pulled away from him. When he thought about it too much, it gave him a tearing feeling in his chest. Soon, there would come a day when he would wake up and one of his friends would be gone from the world. Eventually, there would come a day where he would wake up and James Brian Henderson, the child sleeping in Crowley’s arms, would be gone from the world. Then it would be just him and Crowley and Aziraphale, and the other dozen or so celestial beings who remained, scattered around the globe - having given up on Heaven and Hell after the failed Armageddon. 

“I expect you’ll be moving along soon,” Crowley muttered, breaking his train of thought. 

Adam looked over, eyebrow quirked. 

“From the hospital,” the demon clarified. “You’ve been there too long already.”

Adam tightened his jaw, then looked away, down at the milk warming in the water. Crowley was right, of course. He had overstayed already. Just last week, someone had asked him how he managed to look thirty when he was nearly pushing forty, asked him what the secret was - half jokingly, half really not able to believe it. And Adam had talked it off, of course, because he could. People just believed him. But it was the same as Crowley having to spend half of his energy forcing people not to see his eyes. Soon, he would have to spend half his energy forcing people not to notice that he was not getting older. Then, eventually, he would have to force them not to notice that he had not retired. Then that he had not died. It was better to leave and spend his energy on easing the pain, speeding the healing, weaving little wonders into the fabric of the trade he had chosen to commit his very long life to. 

“You could come to London," the demon suggested. "We could start a practice.”

Adam looked up. 

Crowley’s golden eyes were sincere, but there was a hint of reservation there. The offer was mainly for his benefit. The world was wide and wonderful and Crowley had intentions towards it. To be tied down to a daily job was something he had done for fifteen years solely for Adam’s benefit and, while the almost-antichrist was enormously grateful (he had needed the support, during those years, and had learned more from Crowley than he possibly could have on his own) he did not wish to hamper the demon any further. Especially not when his life seemed to be going so well, in other respects.

“Nah, I’d miss hospital life,” he shrugged. “Perhaps in another few years?” 

“Right.” The demon looked a little relieved. “Well, I can put in a good word for you at one of the locals, if you want? I still know a few people.”

“Why? It’s not as if I couldn’t just walk in the front door and convince them I’m supposed to be there.” Adam raised an eyebrow. 

The cheek earned him half a grin. “Sometimes it’s nice to have earned it,” the demon hissed. His eyes travelled over to the bottle and he bounced the baby a little. 

Adam gave a tiny smile. 

“You want to feed him?”

“Yeah, go on then.” To his credit, Crowley didn’t make a fuss of pretending he didn't. He just carefully turned the baby and arranged him in one arm, ignoring the little whimpers, then took the bottle as Adam haded it to him and teased the child into accepting it with practiced ease. 

For a minute or so, the two man-shaped creatures just stood, watching the small human child suck; watching the concentration on his tiny face, the way a frown furrowed one barely-present eyebrow, the way one tiny hand came to rest against the outside of the demon’s thumb and curled around it. Adam felt the sight pull at his connection to Pepper - pull at places he could not touch directly, inside himself, because they were too deep, too integral. He felt his connection to the child tear and reform, stronger. It was truly beautiful, new life. No power in the world could equal such intense fragility. 

“I remember when you were this size,” the demon murmured, as Adam moved to lean against the table beside him. “The first night we met.”

The almost-antichrist looked up, feeling a squirm of embarrassment, and arranged his face in a caricature of disgust for the demon’s benefit. “Ugh, must we?”

“_Ugh, must we_?” Crowley mimicked, lifting wide golden eyes to focus on him. He pulled on a near perfect mirror of Adam’s disgusted expression, before letting his face drop back to normal. “I’m just saying I remember, is all." He gave an exasperated little sigh. "Why do you always do that? Why do you always have to get weird about it?” 

“I dunno…” the almost-antichrist shrugged. “Because it is weird.” 

A pause, then Crowley spoke again.

“If it’s because of the circumstances of the situation, you know I don’t hold that against you. Neither of us do.” 

He was talking about himself and the angel. Oddly enough, it was the way he said ‘us’ which actually served to clarify why Adam felt weird about it all. 

“I suppose its just another thing that sets me apart,” the almost-antichrist admitted. “Not the whole ‘son of Satan, angel of the bottomless pits, prince of darkness’ thing. That’s a whole other thing, in itself. It’s just… he sighed. “Well, I’m not like Brian, or Wensley, or Pepper, but I’m not like you and Aziraphale either. Whoever i’m with, I’m always separate.”

There was silence for a half minute, filled with the gentle sucking of the baby, and then his distressed whimpers as he lost the teat. Glancing down, Crowley rearranged him, teased it back into his mouth again, and the child returned to happy swallowing. 

“Why do you think you aren’t you like me and Aziraphale?” The demon asked, after another half minute had passed. His voice was softer than usual, a little coaxing. 

Adam squirmed. Introspection was something he was generally quite good at, but this was a touchy subject. It would have been a touchy subject for anyone. It was made worse by being so unsure about the future, by being so horribly sure that he would lose everyone he cared about eventually - by not knowing if he was going to be sucked down into the eternal pits, one day, to fill out some sinister purpose for the rest of eternity. There was a lot of half fallen angel shit there, but there was a lot of human shit, too. Uncovering the roots of your feelings was uncomfortable, no matter who you were. 

Braving a glance over, Adam saw that Crowley's irises were wider than before. They tended to do that, when he was paying a bit more attention to something than his everyday baseline. A little energy would shift from making his eyes look semi-human and they would grow wide and gold. He would look frightening, but for the fact that Adam knew those eyes would only ever be narrowed to protect him. The monstrous power Crowley possessed would only ever be directed to defend those he cared about. 

“Well, I suppose it’s just that you two have been around for forever and i’m pretty new,” the almost-antichrist admitted, with a shrug. “None of the other angels and demons I’ve met consider me one of them.” There had been a number of celestial beings making contact, over the last twenty eight years, since Armageddon. Adam had met around two dozen, now, but none had viewed him as anything other than an experiment gone wrong. “They don’t think i’m the same.”

“Yeah.” Crowley considered him carefully. “I suppose I don’t think of you as quite the same either.”

That caused his stomach to give a strange, painful little twist. Adam looked down. 

“See. I’m just a bit neither-y. Stuck in between worlds.”

“I didn't say that,” the demon hissed, looking back down at the child in his arms, stroking the side of a small leg as he angled the bottle back further, making sure the milk was flowing. “I think, in my case, it’s just a generational thing.”

“A what?”

“Generational thing,” the demon repeated. “Aziraphale and I are from before. We were made for the purpose of getting everyone here, to this point. You’re part of what comes next. You mark the beginning of the future.” He gave a little shrug. “Right now, we are all defined within parameters of the old world. Soon, there will be new parameters. I reckon angels and demons are going to keep turning up, looking for sanctuary on Earth. I mean, Hell and Heaven rather blew their wad on the whole Armageddon thing. They’ve undermined their own authority, and now people are going to start making their own choices. I reckon it’s only a matter of time before we have as many up here as down there. And that’ll mean plenty more half-humans…” 

Adam’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Plenty what?” 

“Oh, don’t be a prude.” A tiny smile played around Crowley’s mouth. “One of the first things that angels and demons did when they were sent to Earth, try out some human tricks. Sex was one of the better ones. Along with whistling,” the demon added, getting visibly side tracked for a moment, before returning to his train of thought. “Anyway, the last time we ended up with half a hundred Nephilim for our troubles. Half human, half angels,” he explained. “Or half human, half demons, I suppose, as most of the angels who contributed to them fell afterwards. Anyway. Most of them are still down in Hell, but one or two have made their way topside.” He shot a very surreptitious glance over at Adam. “So, don’t get too carried away thinking you’re special, mate. You’re not even the only half human on earth right now, never mind in the future. Give it fifty years and you won’t be a novelty. You won’t even be an aberration. There will be angels and demons and half-versions of each, and Satan knows what else kicking around this rock. Times are changing,” Crowley shrugged. “You’re just the first to the party. And I know that sucks, no matter how good the night turns out in the end, but stick it out a while. You never know. Someone might come along and make it interesting.” 

Adam raised an eyebrow at him, not sure about this development - feeling it was a lot of conjecture. Even in a world where there were half-human, half-whatevers, where would he fit in? First, and alone.

“And you’re saying they’ll be my family?” He asked Crowley.

“No, you idiot,” the demon hissed. “_I’m_ your family. I’ll always be your family. I’m just saying that you don’t have to spend your whole life carving a cage around yourself. There are better ways to live. I know you’ve had a lot going on, the last few years,” the word ‘Pepper’ was writ in his eyes, “but that doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of eternity alone.”

The pronouncement was oddly touching. Adam felt himself oddly warmed by it. His throat felt tight, his skin a little warm. He felt quite embarrassed, actually - which was a strange experience for someone who had spent their life feeling suspicion, blame and all other uncomfortable emotions slide off of them. He wasn’t used to the sensation, at all. Despite becoming very close, in particular during the fifteen years they had worked together, he and Crowley had never really talked about this. The demon had never explicitly called him family. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, awkwardly. 

“_Thanks_,” Crowley mimicked, just a little cruelly. 

A tiny smile tugged at the almost-antichrist’s mouth. 

Some seconds passed. 

“So does that make you my mum then?” He asked, eventually.

The demon hissed, low and long and entirely without threat. 

“Well, I damn well hope sso,” he eyed Adam. “Think I went through all that just to be another one of your dads? I mean, you were a bit of a ssurprise, but I did bring you into this world. I delivered you. I helped raise you - even if it was a bit later than I’d intended. And I’ve even passed along my trade, for good measure. I mean,” he tossed his head back. “What the Heaven else were you hoping for? Did you want my good looks as well? You always were too ambitious for your own good.” 

Adam chuckled, feeling very warm inside now, feeling very pleased. 

“Prat,” Crowley hissed at him, fondly, adjusting the bottle up to feed the human baby its last inch of milk. 

They stood for a while longer, drinking in the silence of the kitchen and the distant sound of the others’ laughter from the end room. They heard Mr and Mrs Young reunite with the others, glowing with praise for young Brian and his valiant attempts to fix their ancient router. Adam heard nightcaps being discussed, along with plans for who was getting which train home, and whether it was best to call a taxi or walk by the pub and catch one from there. Aziraphale was lending his opinion on reputable numbers. Adam noticed Crowley’s eyes narrow as the angel got perilously close to offering Toby and Wensley a lift, but they veered away from it in the end and the demon relaxed again. 

The infant finished his bottle. Setting it aside, the demon propped the child up against him, patting his back gently to ease any discomfort. He really was very good at it all, thought Adam, looking down at his godson, currently blowing a contented milk bubble. 

“You ever think about having your own?” He asked, as Crowley wiped some spit absently on his leg. 

The demon looked over, raising an eyebrow. 

“You are mine. I meant it, you know that.” 

Another warm rush passed through the almost-antichrist’s body. He was Crowley’s. In a way that he wasn’t his human parent's, in a way he definitely wasn’t Lucifer’s. Crowley did mean it. He had spent the last twenty eight years staying in supportive contact, visiting regularly, and leading him gently into the real world, through life’s greater and lesser pitfalls. He had been a mentor, a friend, and an ear to vent to. Adam knew that the demon considered him very much his child. Had done for a long time. He just hadn’t realised how willing Crowley was to own the title. He was glad he knew, now. 

Giving a little smile, he nodded at his friend (slightly his parent). 

“I know.” He watched as Crowley rearranged baby James, resting him once more against his chest. “I just meant, have you never felt that pull towards actually creating life? I know I have, and I’ve been on this planet for far less time than you.”

“So you keep reminding me…” The demon bounced his charge slightly, his expression growing contemplative as the baby grizzled off into slumber. “Yes. I’ve thought about it,” he answered, eventually. The words were cautious - an unusual tone from the demon. So much of what he offered the world were blithe little snips and sarcasms. “I’ve thought about it a couple times, actually, but it’s complicated.”

“I imagine.” 

There must have been a trace of amusement in his voice because the demon shot him a look of warning. There were lines that even he did not get to cross with Crowley, Adam thought. Making light of Aziraphale was one of them. 

“I suppose you have time,” the almost-antichrist amended, crossing his legs at the ankle and continuing to look up at the demon. “To decide.”

“Ngh.” Crowley grunted, and shook his head. “Number one rule of an immortal life, son of mine, do _not_ assume you have time. That’s exactly when things come back to bite you on the ass. You’ve got to live well enough to satisfy your soul if you are ripped from the Earth tomorrow. I mean it. Don’t hang around. That’s rule number two - commit. Don’t put things off. Do everything you want to do. See everything you want to see. Travel. Explore. Eat like you’re starving, drink like you’ve just spent a month in a monastery, fuck like an incubus-,” he paused, “succubus-,” he paused again, “both,” he decided, with a little nod, then resumed his gentle rocking back and forth. “Don’t ever assume you have forever. Live well. And if you’re going to play a long game, make damn sure it’s worth it.”

“And how do you know if it’s worth it?” Adam asked. 

Crowley gave a wry little smile. “Makes you forget all the rules.” 

Half a minute passed. 

“How are things between you two?” 

It was a spur of the moment thing. The almost-antichrist hadn’t planned on asking at all and, as the words left his mouth, he wondered if he had gone too far. But Crowley did not shoot him another look of warning. He did not look over at all. Instead, he stared fixedly ahead, yellow eyes focussed on the blinking red light in the corner of the microwave. His forehead creased slightly. 

“We moved my flat into his six months ago,” he said, eventually. His words were measured, careful, and precise. As if, by concentrating on detail, he could avoid the emotion behind it. “There’s a seam along the entrance hall of my place that matches up to the half of the upstairs flat that he doesn’t use for storage. The portal serves a dual purpose - allows us to share space, and creates a blind end that will capture anyone who breaks through my front door. Weirdly, the two hallways have kind of melded into one another a little. The decor is mixing of its own accord.” 

“So… you moved in together?”

“Bits of our flats moved in together.” Crowley corrected, with painful precision. “So, we are living in bits of our two flats, which are now together, in a together-y sort of way.” 

“But you are together? Like, partners together?” 

The demon blew out a heavy breath of air. There were ten long seconds of silence. The baby hiccuped slightly and Crowley patted him. 

“We are together,” he said, eventually. “We have been for a while, now, but saying it, showing it, makes it real and real can be broken.” He looked over and seeing the wide gold of his irises was a little frightening, this time, because there were traces of fear in them. “Adam, for six thousand years, the only thing the world had to offer ‘us’ was the potential for pain. We have never existed where we might have a future. We’ve never known a world where we might grow, or create together. Even imagining those things takes healing and time.” He dipped his head. “So, for now, we exist in very safe spaces.” 

“That must be hard.” Adam said, thinking of Crowley earlier that evening, telling the little story of how they met, his words measured and his tone casual - just casual enough for Adam to see how much it had meant to him, to say it aloud. The demon liked to commit to whatever he did. Having to move slowly must be incredibly difficult for him.

“It is hard,” Crowley answered him, a little tense, “but you know what else was hard? Not having him. That was really hard. Really hard few _thousand_ years.” 

Adam conceded the point, with a nod. 

The demon gave a slow breath and seemed to stretch his patience a little. “Sometimes,” he spoke again, a bit calmer this time, “it needs to be about just one of you for a while, and that’s okay. He’d do the same for me. Probably will, one day.”

“So it’s worth it?” Adam asked, watching his friend-parent’s face. 

“Oh, yeah,” the demon gave an effusive nod, tension clearing from his face in an instant. “Absolutely. One hundred percent.” 

“Good.” 

He was glad. Over the last twenty eight years, there had been points at which he had never thought the angel and the demon would get there. In the early years, he hadn’t really thought about what was going on between them all that much. He had been young and caught up in his own business. He had assumed that everyone older than him had their shit sorted out. As he grew into an adult, however, he realised nothing could be further from the truth. People spent a lifetime trying to figure out what their shit was, never mind getting it sorted out. People carried baggage disproportionate to their time on Earth. Crowley and Aziraphale carried weight he could not even imagine. 

Some years, he saw the distance between them. Some years, only the closeness. Always, he saw the love but, as he grew older, Adam had realised very potently that sometimes love was not enough. There was no world in which it was possible for him to claim Pepper, for example. Pepper was always meant to be his friend. She was always meant to live for a time on this Earth and then pass on to somewhere he could not follow. That was one of the most impenetrable rules of the universe, the almost-antichrist thought. It was the one aspect of humanity that could not be banished, not even by the power of love. 

At his side, he saw Crowley shift, staring again at the blinking red light of the microwave. There was a hint of a smile about the corner of his mouth but, apart from that, his expression gave nothing away. Aziraphale was lucky to have found someone so careful to guard his love, thought the demon’s almost-child. He hoped the angel knew what he had. 

A few minutes passed in peaceful silence, then distant noises of movement from the end room drew the pair’s attention. It sounded like the party were rising from their seats, getting ready to leave, getting ready to find them and say goodbyes. At the indication that the others might come and join them, Crowley seemed to jerk to the present and remember something. 

“Oh, just a heads-up,” he muttered, turning back to Adam and standing away from the table, shifting the baby over his shoulder. “Aziraphale has been helping out with one of the nephilim that has decided to settle on Earth and they’re getting quite chummy. I think there’s a dinner planned, sometime in the next few weeks, and I think he’s going to invite you.” He pulled a grimace. “It’s a bit of a set up, to be honest. I told him it was probably too soon, but he says you have been living your life on much more of a human scale, so maybe it isn’t… So, yeah, just thought you should know.” The demon looked highly uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one hip to the other. “Gives you a chance to gather your thoughts before he springs it on you, looking all innocent.”

Adam stared. 

He did appreciate the chance to gather his thoughts but, oddly, when he started gathering them, they did not automatically jump to ways to turn the offer down. Instead, a few questions popped up instead. 

“What sort of set up?” He didn’t want to get the wrong impression. 

Crowley curled a lip. “The grotesquely hopeful romantic kind.”

“Have you met the nephilim? Are they nice?” 

The demon looked a little surprised. “Uh, well, yeah… I guess.” He shrugged. “They’re young. A bit too talkative. Loads of irritating questions. Not that dissimilar to you, in that respect.” 

“Funny,” the almost-antichrist offered, deadpan. Standing up from where he had been leaning against the table, he moved across from Crowley, folding his arms over his chest. “Are they, uh, a guy or a girl, or…” He didn’t really have much of a gender preference, to be honest. Seeing people as souls rather than bodies came with the celestial territory, but he liked to know how to refer to someone. People appreciated that sort of thing.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, technically neither - but she looks, acts, and likes to be called ‘she’.”

“And what does she look like?”

“Tiny little thing. Can’t be more than five foot. Brown skin. Light hair. Freckles. Can play five instruments and speak seventeen languages. Likes Tarantino films, but that’s the only sign of outward psychopathy I’ve picked up on so far.”

“Cool.”

The two stared at one another, then Crowley nodded. 

“Right. Well. Do with the information what you will, but don’t tell the angel I said anything. He’ll think I’m trying to thwart his plans. Old habits and all…” He shifted a little awkwardly on the spot, still cradling the baby against his chest, eyeing Adam with what the almost-antichrist suspected was a little confusion. “You, eh, thinking of coming along then?”

Adam shrugged. “Might do. I’ll see if I have anything in the diary.”

The demon made a little noise and patted the baby a bit more. They stood listening to the others faff at the far end of the house. Adam heard his parents expounding some story from the village to Aziraphale, who was doing a very good job of sounding interested in Mr Blakely’s troubles with the council zoning department. He mused, silently, that no matter who you had as parents, they always seemed to want to get involved in your love life. Though, he had to admit that Crowley and Aziraphale might be a lot more help in the long term than Mr and Mrs Young. Mainly due to the advantage of actually knowing who and what Adam was, and that there were such things as half-humans. And what they required, in a relationship. 

A thought occurred to him. 

He wasn’t sure how to phrase it, exactly. 

“Uh,” he looked over at Crowley, whose eyes narrowed slightly - as if sensing an awkward question on the horizon. “When you lot pair off, how does it all work, exactly? I mean, I’ve only ever been with humans, before. I just want to know what to expect.” Crowley’s eyebrows jumped up, leaving several neat creases across his forehead. “Don’t want to put my foot in it, if it turns out that a ‘romantic relationship’ means something totally different to my past experiences. I mean, you know-,” he cleared his throat, “the physical aspect of things.”

“Are you asking if we fuck?” The demon stated, eyebrows now so high that they were at risk of disappearing into his hairline. 

The almost-antichrist felt his cheeks burn. Tonight really was a new experience with embarrassment, he thought. 

“Well, I know you must do with humans - nephilim existing and all - but,” he aimed his gaze slightly away from his friend-parent’s eyes. “I just wondered if it was a thing angels and demons and nephilim did with, you know, one another.”

“Well…” the demon stared for a long few seconds, then cleared his throat. His cheeks were pink. “I can’t speak for everyone,” he said diplomatically, “but some of us do.” 

“And it’s… the same as what humans do?”

Crowley closed his eyes and looked as if he were praying for strength from somewhere. 

“More or less, yeah.”

“More or less?”

“Well, you can sort of…” he grimaced, “get into one another’s heads, as well, if you’re close enough. Share the sensation. Experience things from both ends, so to speak.” He said the words in a rush, then opened his eyes and aimed them warningly at the almost-antichrist, as if daring him to ask anything more. 

Adam had no intention of doing so. The idea of knowing any more about what his pseudo parents got up to in their spare time was vaguely nauseating. 

“Cool.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“Ngk.” Crowley cleared his throat as well. “No problem. Anytime.” A few seconds passed, then the demon seemed to rethink his statement. “Actually, no. Not anytime. If you want to know anymore about it, you can ask Aziraphale - give us both a laugh.”

A smile tugged at the almost-antichrist’s lips. 

“Will do.” 

A couple of seconds passed, then the demon began to smile a little, too - the thought of the angel’s face, presented with that question, simply too good not to laugh at. The pair of them started to snigger, then laugh loudly. 

They were both still laughing when footsteps sounded in the hall and Brian burst first through the door, followed by the rest of the party. 

“Hello you two,” the tall man grinned, wandering over to look down at his son, still cradled in Crowley’s arms. “Wondered where you’d got to. What’s so funny? Is this one fed?”

The demon choked off the end of his mirth and looked over. Adam noticed that his sunglasses were miraculously back in place. 

“Yeah, all done.”

“Amazing,” Pepper sighed, following her husband through and moving to stand next to Crowley, resting a hand on his arm. She was the only one who really got away with touching the demon, thought Adam, watching his best friend fondly. It had been the same since they were young. The others had been a little shy of Crowley, but not Pepper. She had always loved bossing him around, involving him in their little games - as a prop, mainly - and sharing all of her precocious views. Now, she trusted him with her son. “Thanks,” she smiled up at the demon. “I appreciate the help.”

There was a little moment as Crowley clearly realised that he was supposed to relinquish hold on the baby. For just a second, he hesitated, spending a fraction too long looking back down at little James Brian Henderson, then he scooped him expertly from his chest and laid him carefully in Pepper’s outstretched arms. 

“No problem,” he said, and his voice was a tiny bit warmer than usual. “Anytime.”

“Might take you up on that, once Adam finally gets tired of babysitting,” Pepper said, tucking her son against her chest and moving off to place him in a car seat. 

Around them, the others filtered through, saying vague goodbyes, and ‘it was nice to meet you’s. Adam watched as Toby shook hands with Brian, then Mr Young, then Aziraphale, who clasped both of the young man’s hands in his own before moving over to stand next to Crowley. It was a small movement, he thought, but it marked them out as a pair, as the rest of them assembled in their couples, around the room. 

Pepper and Brian were the first to leave. Toby and Wensley helped them to their car, then started off down the road towards the pub. They were going to stop for a cheeky half before catching a taxi. Pepper pulled her little mini haphazardly out into the road, just about missing Mrs Young’s hydrangeas, and the lot of them waved at one another as they disappeared off into the night. 

Once they were all gone, Adam turned to the angel and the demon. 

“Well, thanks for coming,” he smiled. He was staying at his parent’s tonight. Mr and Mrs Young were already heading back inside, giving a last wave to Aziraphale, who they were both very fond of (compared to the slightly aloof Crowley). 

The latter fixed the almost-Antichrist with a meaningful glance as the former turned back towards him and said;

“Oh, Adam, I was meaning to ask. Would you fancy joining us for dinner, in a couple of weeks’ time?” The angel’s eyes were so bright, so excited. Behind him, a tiny smirk was crawling across Crowley’s thin mouth. 

Adam did his best to arrange his features into a look of polite surprise. 

“Where to?” 

“Just a little place we go, up the road. Nothing too fancy.” The angel glanced back at Crowley, then forwards at Adam again, looking hopeful. “We have another friend coming, too. Lovely girl. She’s one of us, but new to town. Thought it would be nice to introduce her to a few people, to get her on her feet. You know how it is, starting out in a new city.” He beamed. Behind him, Crowley shifted from one foot to the other, skulking as if it was his day job. 

“That sounds great,” Adam grinned. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, then realised he was mirroring the demon - then realised that the demon had noticed him noticing and that he had to double down, to avoid mockery. He leant to one side. The move did not succeed. Crowley pulled a face at him. “I’d love to come,” he told Aziraphale, trying to ignore the activity behind him. 

The angel beamed. 

“Oh, good,” He turned slightly to look at Crowley, whose mocking face was gone in a nanosecond, replaced by an expression of polite interest. “Adam’s coming to dinner.”

“Is he, now?” He hung his head slightly to the side, which made his eye level almost equal to Aziraphale’s. “Sounds great.” 

The angel gave him a warm, slightly withering look, and turned back to Adam. 

“Well, I’ll give you a call to let you know the details, but it will be lovely to have you, my dear, and I think Meia will appreciate having another familiar face.” 

Crowley mouthed ‘Meia’ behind the angel. 

Adam studiously ignored him.

“I look forwards to meeting her.”

“Excellent.” 

There was a semi awkward little moment, as Aziraphale clearly didn’t know whether or not to shake Adam’s hand or give him a hug, and in the end they ended up doing both. Looking a little pink and rather pleased at his clever orchestration, the angel stood aside, looking up at Crowley, who stood watching Adam for a moment before reaching out a hand. 

Adam took it. 

“Well, mind you don’t burn the hospital down between now and then,” he drawled, doing his best and most impressive impression of not being emotionally invested in the moment. “Worked hard to get that place exactly as I liked it. Would be a shame if it had to be rebuilt and they found all my re-wiring projects. Has anyone found the secret staff room yet?” He asked, fingers still clasped around Adam’s. 

The almost antichrist grinned. 

“Nope. They’ve searched high and low for the chair from the Director's office and the plants from reception went, but no luck so far.”

"And the TVs in the patient rooms?"

"Still receive forty two porn channels. They've tried cancelling the subscription a couple times but it never seems to stick."

The demon nodded, looking a little proud of himself.

They watched one another for another second, then Crowley tugged him forwards and drew him into a one armed hug. He was a good half a head taller than Adam, who found his face buried in the shoulder of the demon’s jacket, breathing in the mix of sandalwood and forest air that always seemed to cling to Crowley. The demon squeezed him tightly for a moment, then pressed a rough kiss against the top of his head and stepped back, moving to stand next to Aziraphale, who was watching the pair of them and looking very soft. 

“Give us a call if you need anything.”

“Or a text!” The angel piped up, happily. 

He had recently discovered texting and had no idea what any of the buttons meant, but he was doing his absolute best - a little move to please Crowley, Adam thought, watching the demon make a show of looking impressed. 

“Will do,” he assured them both.

A few beats passed in that awkward silence that happened after people said good-bye to one another but before they were ready to go, then Crowley exhaled heavily into the night air. 

“Come on, angel. It’ll be midnight before we’re back at this rate.” Turning on his heel, he slouched off in the direction of the Bentley, which was parked on the corner behind Mr Young’s retirement car, dark and sleek in the moonlight. “If you don’t get a move on, we won’t have time to stop at that cafe.”

The thought of cake clearly spurring him on, Aziraphale turned and headed after him, throwing Adam one last cheery little wave as he went. The almost-antichrist watched them go, the angel following the garden path down to the pavement, the demon wandering vaguely over the flower beds. 

.

Making his way back inside the house, the almost-antichrist wandered around a little, through the downstairs rooms, picking up glasses and plates from the evening’s festivities and returning them to the kitchen. There, he bid goodnight to his mother and father - his human mother and father, who had given him all the love and knowledge of humanity he would ever need to know. He felt acutely fond of them, as he paused in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them make their bedtime tea. It would destroy a little part of the child he still clung onto, when they left him one day, but these things must come as all the rest. He knew that. And he knew, now, that he would not be alone after they were gone, or after Brian and Pepper and Wensley were gone, or even after little baby James was gone. He had family of a different sort waiting, to catch him, when his fall from humanity was complete. 

Leaving the kitchen, he climbed the stairs to the small room at the back of the house, where he had slept as a child. Eighteen years and countless more days and weeks, he thought, as he stood in the doorframe, looking around the small rectangular space. He had dreamed his most vivid dreams, in this room. He had fallen in love, over by that window. He had had his first kiss right there, on the bed, with Pepper. They had been fifteen and so excited about the world, and so unsure, and so hopeful. 

A tinkle of tags in the corner of the room told him Dog had raised his head, from inside his wicker basket. The hellhound was growing to be a grumpy old sod, in old age. He avoided large groups of people, now, and preferred to spend his afternoons stretched out on front of the fire rather than chasing a ball. He got on fine with the Them, of course, and adored Aziraphale in particular - but Wensley had told Adam that Toby was frightened of dogs, so the almost-antichrist had instructed his pet to remain upstairs. He rose now, however, padding over to stretch and rest his cheek against Adam’s leg. The half human, half fallen angel reached down and scratched the hellhounds ears, a move that was rewarded with a little groan. 

Making his way inside, he pulled down the pile of sheets and a quilt that his mother had left on the dresser and set to gently making up the bed. He did it by hand, though the magic would have been easy enough to work. There was something soothing about repeating old patterns. This was something he had done countless times, standing right here, when he was a boy, before he had known anything about the world or his place in it - before he had known anything about Heaven and Hell, or angels and demons. The pillows had been larger, back then, and he had used to get a little trapped in the duvet, but he could remember the motions. He repeated them, then straightened the covers so it was all neat and tidy. Then he pulled off his jumper and kicked off his shoes, and moved to sit at the head of the bed, turning his face to look out the window. 

The garden was bathed in moonlight. Over the far hill, the almost-antichrist could see the dark patch that was Hogsback wood. If he stared extra hard, he thought he could make out the lighter patch of their clearing, where they’d had so many great adventures. If he turned his eyes to the east, he could see the pinprick lights of Tadfield proper, where Brian and Pepper would be arriving home shortly, unloading baby James from the backseat and carrying him up, together, to bed. A little family, a little tribe of humans, safe in their collective warmth, against the greater darkness. Adam smiled fondly at the thought of them - of all their potential. It only caused him a little bit of a pang to feel separate.

Turning his eyes in the other direction, he saw the shape of the Bentley, still parked up against the curb further down the road. He saw the shape of the demon and the angel, too, standing near the back of it. Crowley was leaning against the car, legs crossed on front of him, slouching sightly so that his eyes were on equal level with the angel’s. Aziraphale was standing rather closer to him than he had been, inside the house. They appeared to be talking, their postures relaxed, leaning slightly in towards one another. As Adam watched, Aziraphale took a step closer, moving to rest a hand against the demon’s side, and their faces came together in a very chaste kiss. Then another. Then Crowley snaked a hand around the angel’s back and pulled him flush and they were kissing like teenagers. 

Pulling a face, Adam turned away from the window and slipped down to wriggle under his sheets. He had just about got comfortable when he heard another tinkle of tags and a muffled ‘wuff’. Giving a sigh, he patted the bed and Dog leapt lightly up upon it, turned three times on the spot, and nestled into a ball somewhere near Adam’s knee. 

Staring up at the ceiling, the almost-antichrist mused for a while about life and the universe and all that lay in between. He thought about humans and love, and Pepper, and nephilim, and wondered about the young being he was going to meet, in a few weeks time. He wondered if he would like her. He wondered if he could ever love someone like he had loved before - then dismissed the thought as sweet, but melodramatic. If he had learned anything about the universe, in his short but eventful life, it was that love was not finite in its bounds. Love could bridge the gap between mortal and divine, it could end war and famine and pollution, it could pause time, it could create life. He thought about the baby, about Crowley, about the strange and complicated dynamics of having family. Yes, that was something he would be interested in one day, he thought, if he found the right person. Maybe even soon. There was no point in hanging about, after all. Number one rule to an immortal life - don’t assume you have forever. 

Smiling, the almost-antichrist closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep. He was already dreaming by the time the Bentley’s engine gunned into life, some ten minutes later. The pair of celestial beings would definitely not be home until after midnight, now, but neither of them minded terribly much - particularly not Crowley, who had been happily reaping the benefits of having been very, very cute, earlier that evening. The Bentley would get them home in good time, anyways. It always did. Not once, in all the years it had travelled the route, had it encountered a red traffic light, or farm machinery, or a caravan - unless, of course, it had been advantageous to extend a sunlit afternoon drive for a little longer. There would even be time to stop at the all night cafe along the way. The angel deserved a pick me up, after being so bold.

The angel and demon drove home. 

The antichrist slept. 

Time moved on.

All was well.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me lurking on [IG](https://www.instagram.com/heycaricari/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heycaricari), and [Tumblr](https://heycaricari.tumblr.com/) @heycaricari


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